


Growing Old

by lightinthehall



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Age Difference, Age Regression/De-Aging, F/M, Genderbend, One Shot, fem!france - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-31
Updated: 2014-03-31
Packaged: 2018-01-17 17:10:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1395928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightinthehall/pseuds/lightinthehall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur wishes she could take him back too. But then again, he wishes that she would just stay as the woman he grew old with.</p><p>Sort of oldtalia!FrUK, with a twist/different take, inspired by Anja's <a href="http://analdrawings.tumblr.com/tagged/fem%21France">fem!France and Oldtalia</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Growing Old

**Author's Note:**

> Marianne = fem!France, inspired by the lovely analmouse on tumblr

He is an old man.

He cannot deny that. Time has set itself inside his very bones, marking his face with wrinkles, weathering away his body, and continues to work at him until the moment he will simply fall apart. There's an aching in his joints that binds him to a limited range of movements dictated by jolts of pain and arthritis. His hair is thin and grey.

Time is congratulating him on making it this far.

...Time is laughing at him.

 _She_ is also laughing at him. Laughing as she sits, sprawled across his lap as if she weighs nothing (his sore knees protest, but he can't seem to find words to oppose her).

Slowly, she wraps her arms around his neck, and covers his lips with her own in a brief, chaste kiss. Marianne receives a " _hmph_ " in response which only makes her laugh again. Arthur is the source of her eternal amusement.

He can see the wrinkles on her own face creasing further as she rests her forehead against his. Her limp, grey hair curls into her face, partially covering her shining blue eyes, watching him watch her. His eyes slip shut in embarrassment (even after all these years) and quietly revels in her warmth.

Even as an aged lady, Marianne is beautiful. Time has been kind to her - in more ways than one.

When her forehead flares heat, and the muscles beneath her sagging skin twitch, his eyebrows furrow and his mouth tightens into a thin line.

He's struck by an urge to grip her by the arms, and to stop her, keep her in this moment in time (with him, to stay with him) - but she's already pulling away.

His eyes open as she's moving back, and he can feel the _heat_ , radiating outwards. She changes within his gaze, transforms: the wrinkles around her mouth and her eyes smooth themselves, stretching taut and firm across her face, the grey of her hair retracts - chased back into the roots by a vibrant, auburn shade and a renewed spring among the wavy strands.

It's as if every inch she moves away is a step backward in time. But only for her. She controls her position within her own timeline and as usual, she's as precise as a slide ruler.

Arthur is well-familiar with the age she has chosen. Marianne is now at the zenith of her youth, when her beauty was (is) at its peak, her favourite age of all. He remembers how the smooth curve of her neck had made his mouth water, the way her full, round breasts looked - how they _felt_ and how the simple pout of her red lips had driven him wild.

It still does.

But this longing is accompanied by shame. Age will always clash with the stark, freshness of youth. Age can only sully youth, only serving as a reminder of what is to come with the eventual beat of time. The attraction becomes perverse.

Marianne shares none of this shame.

She's staring at herself through a mirror on the wall, fixing her hair up, revealing the white skin of her neck. Arthur's eyes are instantly drawn in.

"Vain," he grumbles. His lust settles low, and it is uncomfortable. It is wrong.

She notices his unhappiness and swoops down to kiss his brow and settle across his lap once more, noticeably lighter than before.

Marianne pouts at him.

"Don't be angry _mon cher_. The way you looked at me before... You know I hate it when you look at me like that," she says. Her voice is melodious in its juvenescence, but her tone is quiet.

"Like what?"

"Like I'm old."

 _You_ are _old_ , he wants to retort but keeps it inside, lest she stay this way forever. However it is true, despite her powers, the fact remains that she has lived as many years as he has lived. She can restore her youthful body, but it takes conscious effort and thought to keep herself that way.

Years and years ago, when they seemed bound at the hip (intimately so), Marianne would tease him, wait for him under the covers completely naked - as her sixteen year-old self. At that time, he had been young - but old enough for such a thing to be taboo - and Arthur could barely hide his interest. As her teenage body writhed beneath him as he thrust into her, her crashing orgasm brought her body spiralling back into its true age. The heat of the transformation overwhelmed him, she tightened almost unbearably around him and her breasts swelled within his grasp. In the end he was left panting, limp and spent, lying on top of an adult Marianne.

When she had been feeling particularly punishing (or somewhat cougar-ish), Arthur would find an older (though not elderly) version of her in his bedroom. Though being the age they are now, Marianne never pushes her time forward anymore. It is always back.

Arthur wishes she could take him back too. But then again, he wishes that she would just stay as the woman he grew old with.

"You are beautiful," he tells her, taking her soft hand into his rough, wrinkled ones.

"Yes, I know," she says distantly, her eyes dart across the room, confirming her own beauty in the mirror.

Arthur shakes his head.

"No." Two fingers reach out to turn her smooth chin towards his face and he leans in to kiss her pouted lips, stamping down the twinge of shame that flutters through him.

Insecurity is alive in her expression, she is tentative, and questioning. And she must discover something in his determined face because she smiles at him and she _beams_.

Her lips slide over his, and he deepens the kiss, the corners of his mouth rise when he feels the familiar burst of heat and the skin under his fingers loosens and sags slightly. He brings a hand up to feel her hair - dry and wiry. Yet it's the same pouted lips, same teasing tongue.

When he pulls away, all he sees is the woman he grew old with.

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Thank you for reading! Just an idea that was initially inspired by Anja's gorgeous artwork. It's more an experiment and hng I kind of have a thing for age differences but I've never considered it with FrUK before. I may re-work it later if I wake up in the morning and realize how awful it is.
> 
> Forever editing!
> 
> Originally posted [here](http://souslelys.tumblr.com/post/34626943194/hetalia-au-fruk-growing-old).


End file.
